Remembrance: Reliance On the Enemy
by prlrocks
Summary: Unfinished Sark and Sydney fic; Sydney begins to wonder if she's not the only one who doesn't remember what really happened during the last two years. Upon learning her fate, Syd begins understanding her place in the world and of those around her.
1. chapter 1

**Title: ** Remembrance: Reliance On the Enemy  
**Author:** prlrocks  
**Rating:** PG-13 but future parts of the series may hit R or NC-17  
**Spoilers:** Up to the final  
**Time line/Genre:** Post telling & AU/Angst/Romance  
**Ship:** S/S with overtones of S/V   
**Disclaimer: ** It's **fan**fiction. Do you really think I own them?  
**Summary:** Sydney begins to wonder if she's not the only one who doesn't remember what really happened during the last two years. Upon learning her fate, Syd begins understanding her place in the world and of those around her.   
**Notes:** Many thanks to my betas, Jen, Susan and RED and to Aliasscape, who turned out to be a wonderful muse and helper in planning this fic. I couldn't do this without you guys. This is the first part in a series I hope you all will enjoy. Reviews are appreciated more than I could ever say.   
  
~   
  
_ Something was wrong, he could tell from the fright in her voice. He ran. He did not know how much time he had left. His tired feet hit the ground again and again, down the series of white narrow halls, his black leather duster slowing every step. There it was! As he reached the closing door, he saw her panicked eyes widen in horror. Frantic to get the door open by any means, he pounded his aching fists into the pane repeatedly. It had to open! But it was too late. For one last moment, they stared into each other's eyes before that one last final breath was obtained and then she was gone. When it was all over, there was no reminder of what had happened besides a pair of bloodied hands. _  
  
~  
  
God she wished she was numb. To never have felt, that would have been the greatest thing that could have ever happened to her. She would willfully trade each smile and every damn laugh to make this crushing pain inside her go away. It wasn't like she was ever truly happy. Anything that could be thought as being so was tainted and ugly in remembrance. For so short a life, the list of horrific events that haunted her was so long. Her mother's supposed 'death,' Danny's all too real assassination, learning her guilt in aiding one of the world's most immoral men; all were scars on her presence. There was no fighting their hold on her, in days to come. Pain and devastation, it seemed, was enamored with her.   
  
And here it was again. When Sydney woke, she thought with a laugh, it was as if the last few days had not been enough. Almost seeing one of her best and closest friends executed for treason would have stood out alone as being one of those unspeakable moments.But then there was the added pang of discovering her Francie was long gone; how long, she did not know. She had been murdered and replaced by a double sent to spy on and manipulate both her and Will. At least he was okay. Sydney had been certain Will's life had come to an end, as much as Danny's had. That could be her one consolation for everything that had happened.   
  
So Sydney sat, wrapped in self-pity and a rough wool blanket, waiting for him to return. Vaughn had given the pretense of needing to nourish her, in order to contact the CIA on what to do next.   
  
Two years! How was that possible? Two years had gone by and she recalled nothing of it. Even worse somehow, was realizing Vaughn had married Alice. Everything she had thought they had together was nothing to him. He was being so cold and distant. Shouldn't he have run to her? Grabbed her and told her how much he had missed her? How he was sorry that he had given up hope? But no… he had almost said nothing. Shock she told herself. He did not anticipate this but somewhere deep down she knew this was denial just begging this horror away.That two years, such a brief time really, had been enough for him to get over her, dead or not, was too much to bear.  
  
Alice, she cursed. Never had she loathed a word more, and how dare he question why she was focusing on his private life. He acted as though it was no concern to her. It was very much her concern that he had wedded that bitch, as Sydney now referred to her, barely six months after she had disappeared. How dare he? She may have not given him much, but it was sure as hell worth more than a few months grief from the man. This betrayal stung considerably more than any other had.   
  
"Here, eat this," the unexpected voice commanded.  
  
Sydney startled, but recovered with the roll her eyes, thinking of a lovely reply to that request. A bowl of fried rice, she sulked, as if she was not sick of eating that already. Didn't matter, she wasn't really hungry as she had told him. All she wanted was to sit there and imagine ways to make Vaughn suffer for what he had done to her. Which technique of torture, she pondered, would be the most befitting of his 'crime'? She yearned to see how well he faired under such extreme pain.   
  
He sat huddled over, hands grasped between the knees, staring at her with concern. Did he insist she take a bite? She did, eager to make that expression in his ever green eyes go way. Why did he have to gaze at her like that? His eyes held immense guilt; they were consumed by it and he could barely look at her for the pain it caused. This, of course, made her feel worse, if anything could, for her thoughts. Damn him. It was her turn to pine. She cursed him, far less enthusiastically than she had seconds before.  
  
"I'd like some rest," Sydney grumbled, giving him a reason to leave. At least then, she could be angry without having to feel guilty for it. She sensed he was leaving, but was mistaken.  
  
"Sydney, there are some other things I did not tell you." He paced across the room, hands twitching and distress reflected in his eyes. "I watched you die." Vaughn choked upon the word and held his hand to his trembling mouth to stop the sobs escaping it.   
  
"No, no I am here." She reached out, wanting comfort him but he shunned her and sat back into a creaky old chair.  
  
"I tried," as much as he attempted to contain the sobs he couldn't. "I tried so hard to save you. I pounded on the glass till my hands bleed but you were gone."  
  
Sydney's head spun in bewilderment. What was he talking about? She peered up at him. Vaughn was trying to stop his tears, and absent-mindedly playing with the gold band upon his finger. She wondered if he was regretting the day he moved on. Even though it would cause him heartache, she hoped it did. It would dull her own suffering. She then scolded herself for wishing sorrow on someone she was meant to love. He glanced up at her with those green sincere eyes and his forehead wrinkled. She smiled. In a moment like this, she took comfort in the familiar sight.  
  
"I was so sure. There was no way." He sighed and ran his hand over his cheek to dry it. "You were trapped. The water came rushing behind you.I swear, I saw you take your last breath before the water swept you away from my sight."  
  
Syd's eyes bulged out from what she was hearing. Either this was the worse dream she ever had or Vaughn had gone insane.   
  
"Vaughn," she took a deep breath and thought on how to say this. "It wasn't I who drowned in Taipei, it was you and besides, I saved you later on.. Khasinau's lab, remember?" She gave a desperate nod yes, pleading with him to agree.  
  
He didn't.   
  
"Syd, I don't know what has happened, why you don't remember what occurred. All I can think of is that you must of hit your head, amnesia, something. I am just glad you're alive. For so long I've blamed myself. I still do. If you hadn't warned me none of this would have happened."  
  
It was too much. Sydney jumped off the bed frantically to do something, but she didn't know what. Her ears were flooded and she felt lost. She pulled at her hair and at her sweater in same attempt to do something, to make this feeling go away. She heard her heart beating, so fast, over and over, and it ached. Sydney moaned, grabbing her chest as tears continued to streak her cheeks. Vaughn's face, so strange; it seemed so alarmed yet distorted to her vision. Vaughn appeared to be saying something but still nothing but the rapping of her heart and the whooshing of air reached her ears. This wasn't happening. Syd pleaded for it all to cease. Make it stop, please, she begged. She covered her ears and screamed, falling to the floor. She curled up tight wanting to disappear. Nothing could hurt her like this, she told herself, nothing. He was lying; all lies. She would wake up in her warm bed and Francie would be there and Will. A dream, it had to be. Vaughn was not that cruel to do this to her.   
  
Sydney sensed his hand on her shoulder, trying to bring her back and she snapped at him, "Get away from me. You're a liar." Her throat stung from the way the words rumbled out of them. Vaughn tried to touch her again but she pushed him away. It was her turn to be cold. "You said Will was fine after he got stabbed," she furiously accused. "If it all never happened than you're a liar."  
  
"Syd, he's okay. I promise." He soothed her as if she were a child. "Will was never stabbed. He was tortured, I admit, but your father rescued him from Sark. He was going to trade the page, remember?"  
  
There was that word again, 'remember.' She remembered fine. It seemed to be him, who was having the problem… and her father. "Where is my father?"   
  
He said nothing.   
  
"Why is he not here?"  
  
"Calm down. Please. I'll go get some help."   
  
Sydney grabbed his jacket. She swore, she would kill him, if he did not tell her.  
  
"No, you'll stay here and tell me where he is."   
  
Vaughn was pale and shaking. Sweat ran down the side of his face. He seemed scared. Sydney could only imagine what she looked like to him. "Your father, he disappeared shortly after. The CIA declared you dead and refused all help. We thought that maybe he had gone out on his own to find you. He hadn't. He surfaced about 3 months ago. It appeared he had been trying to obtain a Rambaldi manuscript for Sloane."  
  
She had believed there could be no harsher blow than Vaughn's marriage. She had been wrong. _Oh god,_ she thought, _ I'm going to vomit._ Her father would never work for that man no matter what he alleged. She swallowed, doing her best to collect herself.   
  
"What is being done to get him back?"   
  
"I don't think you understand. There is no getting him back." Vaughn trailed off, almost afraid of concluding what needed to be said, "He's a traitor."   
  
Her heart sank, her tears came back and she laughed a small, breathy, disbelieving laugh. It was all she could do. Her father, the man who had given his life to helping bring down Sloane, a traitor? That was impossible yet… She closed her eyes. Somewhere deep down Sydney knew Vaughn's words, like the ones of her death, were honest.   
  
"Syd-"   
  
"I don't want to hear another word, I really don't, but this hell, I just want it over with. Tell me the rest. I'm not asking for your sympathy. Please just say it, and get out. I deserve to be alone."   
  
"There's nothing left to say," he whispered.   
  
He leaned over and took her hand. A gesture of compassion, she supposed, but he might as well have slapped her. The sensation of the cold mental upon his hand, it hurt.   
  
She slipped her hand away; it was not his to hold. Vaughn took it as his sign to depart and so he did with a few final words she barely registered.   
  
Sydney lay back onto the hard bed and stared up to the ceiling. Her eyelids were heavy, but she would not close them. It would mean chancing sleep. To sleep meant to wake up and who knows where she'd find herself next time. An irrational fear, she acknowledged, but she would use the nighttime minutes to reflect instead.   
  
Her father, could it be true? Had he given up on her as well? The way the CIA and Vaughn had? There was nothing left for her at the CIA now. No one to trust or confide in. Sure, they might take her back into their fold, but would she, and what happened to her, be a priority? No, she doubted it. Unless she had been with an extremist group or aiding some foreign enemy state, they'd placate and ignore her. Did this mean she was all alone? When she had told Vaughn she wanted to be, she hadn't meant this alone.  
  
What if Sloane, or her mother, had to do with this? She'd never understand what Irina sought. Her betrayals were followed by seemingly altruistic deeds. Her mother had guided her, using Sark, to the building where Sloane held her father, allowing him to be saved. Why? It had benefited Sydney and the CIA but were her intentions pure? Then there was the roof.  
  
_   
  
Irina, trying to evade capture, stood on the ledge of the building. As much as she was supposed to despise the woman, Sydney was petrified Irina would jump. It would kill her for sure.  
  
"Get off the ledge," she screamed.  
  
"I'll tell you what you need to know."  
  
"Get off the ledge now!"  
  
"Sloane believes he's been chosen to realize the word of Rambaldi. But you, too, have been chosen."  
  
"If you think I'm bluffing…"  
  
"It's you in the prophecy, Sydney, not me. Only you can stop him." A proud, loving smile came to her mother's face. "Good luck, sweetheart."  
  
"Get down now!"  
  
"I love you."   
  
Her heart jumped as Irina fell backwards off the ledge.  
  
_ Just for a moment, she had thought her mother dead again and the little girl in her mourned. 'Sweetheart,' it was as if those fraudulent years of her youth never took place and her mother had always been there for her with nothing but love between them. She even had wished her good luck. Good luck? It was than Sydney realized, her mother had known! Irina knew something was to come, why else wish her luck? Sydney then knew what she had to do. The answers laid with her mother.   
  
Vaughn would find her missing the next morning, with a few hours lead on him. He would contact the CIA for sure, and perhaps go looking for her himself. She was certain the old Vaughn would. She had little money and what she had was American, so wherever she was headed, it wouldn't get her far. She walked down dirty back alleys. She knew this place. She had been here once before, and there was something else she knew about this area. It was another chance she would have to take.  
  
~   
  
Contacting Irina was no easy task under even the most 'normal' of circumstances. In fact, it was nearly impossible. That was why, after a two year absence, Sydney was astounded that she was able to in a matter of a few days. She had gone to one of her mother's "known" facilities in Hong Kong, which the CIA had considered too small and insignificant to employ their resources in shutting it down, upon its discovery years earlier. Sydney then used her mother's own ploy; she turned herself in, making sure her name and relation to a one Irina Derevko was made well aware.  
  
For days, she stayed within a rank, now empty storage room. The ceiling leaked, and it was cold but she would survive. At least she wasn't tied up, she reasoned and her captors had granted her a mat to lie on and a rough wool blanket to protect her from the chill. Not that it mattered. Sleep was scarce to the point of almost escaping her. Two pitiable meals were afforded to Sydney each day; bread and a salty broth or a bowl of a bland, gritty oatmeal-like substance. Her caretakers were kind compared to past ones but not generous. Time slowed. Her mind and body rebelled on being constantly contained. To be so was unnatural for someone who normally never got a chance to rest and it left her to thoughts she rather not have. Could this have been the biggest mistake she'd ever had made? Her tendency to act on emotions had been her downfall in the past; she prayed it would not be so again. For all she knew, she may have traded her current fate for one significantly worse.  
  
It was on the fifth day, it seemed her answers were to come one way or the other. As she was taken from the small windowless room her eyes stung and watered from the sunlight streaking down from an above skylight. There was a table, which they sat her down. Chicken and dumplings, it was the best meal she had since well she couldn't even say when. Very good sign they were feeding her so well and they offered her a shower, which she gladly accepted. It felt good to be clean again and even better to put on the new clothing, a pair of gray cotton slacks and a white silk shirt, they gave her. If this had not been sign enough that everything was going to be fine, the reverent words of admiration they gave towards her mother, while they were sending her goodness knows where, was even better.  
  
She was placed on a private plan, comfortable besides having guards hanging over her and watching her every move. She was not sure what they expected her to do. She had been searched when originally entering the facility. When they landed wherever their destination had been, they blindfolded her and took her to another location.  
  
When the guard removed it, she found herself in a large welcoming office. An old English oak desk was the centerpiece of the room and it was flanked by three soft cushioned chairs, one behind it and two in front. Pictures of landscapes lined the wooden walls, and burgundy patterned rug filled the floor. It was night out, she noticed, through the closed shades.  
  
"I've waited almost twenty two years for this," a voice behind her said, giving her a strange case of déjà vu. What was she trying to be funny? Not something Sydney would normally associate with her.  
  
She turned to seeing a bright-eyed Irina, with an ecstatic smile on her face.  
  
"Feels like only two to me."  
  
Irina's smile faded and she took a few steps closer. "I knew this day would come but I never pictured it quite like this."  
  
Oh god, Sydney thought. What is happening?  
  
"You have nothing to say to me after all this time?" Irina continued softly.  
  
She took a deep gulping breath. She had never been this scared in all her life. "Mom…" Her voice broke and tears filled her eyes. "What's happening?"  
  
"That's for you to say."  
  
"You know," she pouted like a spoiled child.  
  
"No, I don't Sydney."  
  
She had to think fast. She did not know were things stood so she couldn't give too much of what had happened away. "Dad, he works for Sloane again. Can I see him?" There was so much hope in that statement, Sydney knew she would always love her father no matter what he did.  
  
"If you wanted to see you father, what are doing here?" Irina was clearly disappointed.  
  
"Tell me where they are. Please, you work with them after all."  
  
"I've never," she shook her head. "I work for no one but myself. Why would I ever work with Sloane of all people? And your father…" Irina felt regret. It was plastered on her face and in her voice.   
  
Sydney was sick with confusion. It was like the last year of her life had never happened. Was this the dream or had the year been the dream?  
  
"So you know SD-6 is not the CIA after all this time?"  
  
"Sd-6 is gone!" she screamed in frustration.  
  
"You're not well."  
  
Sydney was going to reply when Irina hushed her and picked up the phone, a doctor was needed immediately, Irina did not care what the time was. She was taken to a small room, next to the office and asked to lay down on the bed. Sydney guessed it was for Irina's late over worked nights. The doctor, a small, lean, gray haired man, came some minutes later, obviously having no intention of keeping Irina Derevko waiting. He and her mother talked quietly in the corner.  
  
He came to her with a sincere worried smile. "Let's just give you this little something to relax," he said in a thick Russian accent while sticking a needle in her arm.  
  
After he had left, Irina handed her a cold glass of water she gratefully drank. Her body calmed and the tears stopped though her eyes, she knew, were still swollen red.  
  
"It's late. You rest and we will talk more in the morning."  
  
Even if her mother had not suggested the idea, Sydney would have fallen into the deep sleep anyway. Her body was exhausted after days of sleep deprivation and the drug allowed it what it needed so badly.  
  
When she awoke, a corn muffin and a cup of coffee awaited her. She drank the coffee and reflected on how she would need more soon. Though she had slept many hours, she was still weary. Sydney saw a note accompanied the breakfast. She was wanted in her mother's office upon rising.  
  
The morning sunshine filled the office, bringing out colors she was sure were missing the night before. It was done up in reds and golds and not the brown and burgundy her eyes saw before. It was just as pretty but had a livelier rich feel to it. Her mother was seated at the desk, looking ever the professional. She wore a brown pants suit and her hair was up in a bun. It was the same appearance she had in the grainy video footage Sydney saw over a year… no three years ago, after learning her mother's true status as a spy for the KGB.   
  
Sark, her nemesis, sat off in the corner in on a couch. She shouldn't have been amazed. Where her mother was Sark was bound to be near by. His loyalty to her was something Sydney had never truly understood.  
  
His blue eyes, for once, were showing emotion. They were perplexed. She was unsure if it was not trusting the enemy or if it was her very presence here that brought of that deep blue, bewildered expression to them but something had. Maybe it was just his fine tailed navy suit causing the illusion of mystified blue eyes, she thought with a laugh… but no, he was studying her. It reminded her of his piercing glares across the table of SD-6. She felt vulnerable under that analytical gaze but she'd never show it.  
  
Her mother directed her to sit down and she did, turning her back on Sark. It was not something she would ever consider doing normally but she was anxious to avoid his stare.   
  
"How are you doing?" Irina with concern, questioned.  
  
"Fine."   
  
"Now, I need you to tell me why you are really here." Irina was studying her just as intently as Sark moments earlier.  
  
Why she was here? The truth was she didn't know. What was she to say? Mom, I swear we have met before. You turned yourself into the CIA and betrayed us, remember? No, she wouldn't. No one did but Sydney herself. What to say? She couldn't yet trust her mother. She would have to appraise the situation first if Irina allowed her the opportunity.  
  
"I've come here for your help. Sloane, I am afraid he will kill me now I'm aware of the truth." It wasn't a lie but it wasn't the full story either. "I have no one to turn to, no one to trust."  
  
"Not even me," Irina chimed in.  
  
What are you hiding, Syd realized, was left unsaid.  
  
"I need your protection."  
  
"But if you assumed I was working with Sloane, why come here?"  
  
A good question and Sydney felt stupid for not seeing it coming.  
  
"I was investigating where your allegiances lied."  
  
"And just what would I expect in return for this protection?" Irina sounded unimpressed by her explanation.  
  
"My skills as a spy and devotion to your organization." A deal with the devil was being made, Sydney mused. Betray all she believed in for the answers to her past. Somehow, she suspected there was no choice in the matter. Besides, it would allow her to test the waters of her mother's reliability in helping with the real issues she faced.  
  
"That is worthy of my protection for sure and since you are now my employee I suggest will get right down to business. Your mission partner will be Sark-"  
  
"Sark!" She looked back at him with disgust.  
  
Irina arched an eyebrow. "I see you two have met," she snickered with a smile, which to some would appear evil.   
  
At last Sark choose to join the conversation. "I don't believe we've ever been officially introduced."   
  
Those words reminded Sydney of every reason she hated the man. "Do you have some attachment to that phrase," she snapped. It only took a second for embarrassment to hit her. They had no idea what she was talking about and she would be showing her hand far too early in the game to explain.  
  
"Whatever was between you two in the past, leave it there Sydney. We'll get no where if you hold grudges for earlier behavior."  
  
Irina was right. She couldn't allow her dislike of him to get in her way. She'd wait for the glint of the knife destined for her back before she attacked the bastard again.  
  
Irina must have seen see reached this conclusion for she went on, "Good. I have matters to attend to. I've given Sark off the day. He'll get you settled and you can become acquainted with your new partner.  
  
The idea of spending time with Sark was not a pleasant one. "I'm not some pet that needs looking after."  
  
"No, you're an employee, who can't be trusted."  
  
She had a point.  
  
~  
  
End of Chapter 1 


	2. chapter 2

**Notes:** Thanks to all those who reviewed. Means alot.   
  
~   
  
_ He glimpsed over the scene. So much effort wasted and he supposed many of Irina's loyal followers too, though they had yet to get an exact figure. The air was still damp and overwhelmingly smelt of disinfecting chemicals. Workers were hauling debris of what was only a short time earlier one of the greatest and most powerful inventions known to mankind. He looked up to see another body being carried out. A female, he overheard one of the men say. With the wave of a hand, he stopped them and slowly pulled back the sheet wrapping the body. He quickly turned away from the gruesome sight. Nothing, not even of the lives he had stolen, had prepared him for witnessing her lifeless hazel eyes. _   
  
~   
  
As the chauffer opened the limo's door Sydney plopped down onto the expensive leather seat and thanked him with a wide grin. Her companion didn't bother waiting for the same treatment and got in with the graceful motion of someone who had done so many times before. To her confusion, the chauffer himself didn't get in, but settled near a tree, while she and Sark waited in silence.  
  
There was a chill between them—harsh and evident. Sark's coldness was nothing new but this time it was noticeably different. Something was wrong. He was overly silent. Most likely, he hated the idea of working with her just as much as she did, something that surprisingly vexed her. She longed for any comment, even if it was one of his smart ass remarks, which would normally make her blood boil. Sydney hard heartily pushed the feeling away, asking herself why she even cared, which she didn't, of course.  
  
Without thought, Sydney then muttered, "Nice, but I suppose given your 'particular' line of work you could afford the best."  
  
Once the words left her mouth, she regretted them. Not because of any hurt they might cause but because of the implication that she just might care.  
  
"My line of work does allow for the best, and I would say thank you, but it's not mine. Irina does have lovely taste though."  
  
She should have known he'd throw it right back in her face and he had to say it with all the airs of being a gentleman, rather than snap back at her like a normal person would. It made her angry, and then glad that the customary exchange of banter had returned.  
  
"Let's get right down to business," Sark continued with a glint of caution in his eyes. "Though you do possess the sharp tongue of Sydney Bristow, I know you are not her.  
  
"And how's that?" Her voice was composed. She was getting used to events like this.  
  
"Because I saw the dead body of Bristow myself, so you see, you can't be her."  
  
First Vaughn and now him. She knew she needed to play nice to learn what was happening. "Maybe who you saw was the fraud."  
  
"No." His eyes narrowed on her. "The tests said otherwise."  
  
The most absurd idea crossed her mind. That she had been cloned somehow, but that was impossible. The lab was destroyed and besides, it did not explain why she had lived a year in which no one else remembered.  
  
"Why wouldn't my mother have said something if this was true?"  
  
"I'm very fond of Irina. When I saw her daughter lying there dead, I didn't have the heart to tell her."  
  
Maybe it was a form of escape or her just trying to lighten the mood, but she raised an eyebrow and gave him a half roll of the eyes.  
  
"What?" he questioned.  
  
"Heart?"  
  
Sark smirked and raised an eyebrow himself. "Though I must say you are a very good impersonator."   
  
Syd chuckled at the absurdity of being complemented, by Sark of all people, for impersonating herself. Sark found it less amusing and she laughed all the more for it.   
  
"So we find ourselves at a pass. You'll either tell me who you really are or… I'll have to find some other less pleasant method of extracting the information from you."  
  
The smile faded from her face. Suddenly, Sark seemed less charming.  
  
"Irina would have you killed for that."  
  
"Not if you were never around to tell her," Sark threatened, unmoved. "Furthermore, I'll remind you, you are the intruder, not I."  
  
He was both bluffing and being honest in that statement.   
  
They did indeed find themselves at a pass and she needed to make a decision quick. Would he believe the truth? Hell, was he even trustworthy?   
  
He straightened his suit jacket and looked at her with impatience.   
  
Predicting Sark was about to says something she cut him off with, "What if I told you I was unsure why I was here?"  
  
"And what if I told you I didn't believe it?"  
  
"I really don't."  
  
He flashed a frown in her direction. "You must have some idea otherwise you'd not be here nor would you have been in Hong Kong. You didn't just appear out of nowhere."  
  
Somehow, that felt more dead-on than it should have. "Sort of. I really don't know what happened." She shifted nervously. None of her training could help her with this.  
  
He leaned forward, eyes full of skepticism, and whispered, "Though that sounds a tragic tale, I'm afraid it's not good enough."  
  
"I didn't wake up at Irina's establishment but I did wake up in Hong Kong, not having the slightest clue how I got there." She couldn't believe she had said it but she did, and somehow she knew in the end she had little other choice.  
  
Sark was studying her, she could tell, seeing if she gave anything that pointed at being other than she claimed. "Why go to your mother then?"  
  
"It's a long story and you'd think I was insane." Sydney looked away at that last word, not so sure it wasn't true. Unexpectedly, the door opened causing her heart to race in panic. _Oh god,_ she thought instinctively, _He's going to kill me._ She went to protest but saw Sark had only gotten out to talk to the driver. Little relief she found in this. Till this subject was cleared up, nothing would ease her mind. She had little trust in Sark and for all she knew, Irina's men, from the top down, including this chauffer, were hired thugs.  
  
The driver disappeared down the path when the discussion ended. Meanwhile, Sark paced back and forth speaking on his cell phone. He smiled. Sydney had never seen him do so before and was left imagining who was able to create such an event. A close friend? Perhaps even a lover?   
  
Her contemplation was interrupted as they returned, getting into their appropriate places.   
  
"I presume you wouldn't want to remain here all day, and I'm not about to take you to the house."   
  
"Your willing to hear me out?"  
  
"Let's just say that in the last few years I've seen many unexplainable things, so yes I am." Sark pulled something out of his pocket. "Please, turn around?"   
  
She complied and bit her lip anxiously as Sark's hands gently drew her hair back. She had to admit the sensation was simply electric. Sydney twisted her hands in her lap as he placed the blindfold over her eyes and control became completely his.   
  
"This should alleviate the risk till this matter is solved." The car began to move. "You may as well relax but remember we are both armed."  
  
Nothing like a statement like that to ease a person. She couldn't let him see it affected her so she leaned back into the soft seat.  
  
"That's a girl," Sark praised, his voice condescending yet incredibly sexy. It had to be the accent, she thought, annoyed with herself for even thinking it.  
  
The car ride was silent but her heightened senses picked up the swish of the tires on the pavement and his faint, rhythmic breathing. It was strangely soothing in a time little was.   
  
Few minutes later, the limo stopped and doors opened.  
  
"Should I get out?" Syd was frustrated she didn't know what was happening.   
  
"In a minute, ma'am," the driver called. She heard a set footsteps on gravel coming towards her and another walking away. Just great, Sark was just leaving her there.  
  
As she impatiently groped for the handle, the door opened and he, whoever he may be, took her hand to help her out of the car. "Thank you."  
  
He said nothing but led her on to the building and up the stairs. It had to be the driver. Sark would never treat her so and this man's hands were so strong, soft, and gentle. No, they couldn't be Sark's, and she'd never love the touch of a killer.  
  
He seated her. As he leaned in the remove the blindfold, she caught a hint of a musky fragrance upon him. When her eyes opened, she saw they were in a comfy room and she turned to the man. She saw Sark. They were alone.   
  
She looked around just not to look at him. They were in a small room with light brown walls and a brick fireplace. Pictures lined the wall, more landscapes. It gave the room a feeling of home. A cloth-covered table for two was before her and set for a meal, so she assumed the talk would be over lunch.  
  
Sark seated himself and had no intention of wasting time. "Whatever it is you believe you must say, now's the time to do it."  
  
"You're not the first to claim I was dead. A man, who was in Taipei with me, he said so as well."  
  
"Your CIA handler." Being blunt was an intention as well, she gathered.  
  
"Yes." Another honest admission.  
  
Sark nodded, appreciating her candor but added, "Include the details, it saves time."   
  
"Vaughn also claimed I was missing two years."  
  
"Do you remember anything of those years?"  
  
This was the complicated part, explaining memories she had, which all others lacked. "I don't know how to explain it, but I do remember one of those years. The thing is, no one else recalls what I do."  
  
His mouth was a thin straight line revealing nothing.   
  
She would need to divulge much more if this was going to work out in her favor. "You, Vaughn, you both say I was dead. I remember seeing Vaughn drown, not me." Sydney took a deep breath, trying to kill the shaky sense of hurt in her voice. "I was caught by guards, tied up and after finding out Irina was "The Man," she shot me. I managed to get away though."  
  
Still no reaction.  
  
"My mother, soon after, turned herself into the CIA. Vaughn got sick. He almost died and I saved him by making a deal with you for the counteragent, but you don't remember that, do you?"  
  
"Not in the slightest," Sark uttered, appearing bored. "Still, you can't imagine I'd consider this satisfactory."  
  
"No matter what I say, you'd recollect none of it."  
  
"Convenient."  
  
Sydney sat there in silence, thinking on what to do. She had revealed this much to Sark. Why not her mother?"Can I talk to my mother again? Maybe she'll believe me."  
  
Sark got up. Hovering over her, he leaned into the table, supported by his palms and glared at her with his cold blue eyes. "I'm afraid I can't allow that. Till this matter is resolved, you're going nowhere."   
  
Syd felt vulnerable and threatened. Those eyes could do far more than a simple blindfold could but she would not give in. She had to make the enemy believe in her even if her spy half resisted handing over such info. What did she know that he would know too? Private information, but she had so little. It was worth a try. "When you were young, you were sent to a boarding school in England. It made you…" What had Caplan said in his debrief, "ambitious."   
  
"Your ability to identity an English accent is impressive."  
  
"You like cars… a Mercedes and wines."   
  
"You've read my profile, what there is of it, like any half decent spy would." He removed a gun from his jacket, pointed it at her and continued, "I'm getting tired of these games-"   
  
She could see he was not just playing games and this was no bluff. Nothing left, her mind frantically grasped for any other info that could help stop her inevitable end. "You and my mother want to reveal Rambaldi's secret," Syd rapidly spit out. "You're gathering artifacts to piece together the final mystery. The key to eternal life." Tears came down her face, at the thought of her death. "Please. Il Dire. Il Dire is what they called it."  
  
He pulled a gun away as his eyes unexpectedly sparked with understanding. "Il Dire," he repeated.  
  
Suddenly, something clicked and she asked hopefully, "You've heard of it?"  
  
"Yes… Perhaps talking to your mother is best."   
  
He knew something, just as she had assumed her mother had, and now it was Sydney who wouldn't leave without knowing it all.  
  
"Tell me what it is?" she begged desperately wanting answers.  
  
He looked down sadly, as if questioning what to say. It was like a wrong word would shatter her to pieces."It's rumored… I've heard that Il Dire is just a piece to the quest for eternal life. It's a quantum computer really."  
  
"A time machine?" She couldn't believe it.  
  
"Somewhat. It allows individuals access to parallel universes or so they say."   
  
"And this is what happened to me?"  
  
"It's within reason."  
  
"You believe me?  
  
"Yes."  
  
It explained so much, but left so many questions in her head as well. One was of the utmost importance. "Is there a way back?"  
  
"I suppose." He puckered his lips in thought. "If it existed in one universe, it could in another."  
  
"So I just have to get to Sloane and steal the machine?"  
  
"Far more complicated than that. We don't even know if it has been built and if it has, which universe to will return you back to. There are many things to be factored in. It'll take time."  
  
Time? She burst into tears like a stubborn spoiled child, wanting out of this hell. "I just want to go home. I just want my Vaughn back."   
  
~   
  
Hope it's not a let down. I think one reviewer guessed this is what happened. 


	3. chapter 3

**Notes:**Sarklover and scifichick774: Thank you so much to for the feedback.   
  
~  
  
Lunch came and Sydney refused to eat. She had forced him to tell her how long he thought it would take for her steal the machine, acquire the information and get back. Years, Sark had guessed. It would take years.   
  
She wanted to scream. Yet another slap to the face, to add to her already brimming collection. She demanded to be taken to the house and Sark replied by doing so. She was angry though, and intended to make things as difficult as possible for Sark. More than likely, whatever happened to send her to this hell was his fault.   
  
"We're here," Sark said as they arrived at the house and glanced at her as if anticipating some form of response.   
  
He was looking at her again and she hated it. Why did his eyes also have to be on her? It had not even been a day and she could barely stand it anymore. [I] I'll give him something to stare at, [/I] Sydney furiously thought, getting out of the limo and slamming the door. Her life was anguish and she meant to show it. She moped her way up the drive and into the house, noting the lavish surroundings but not caring much for them at the moment. As they ascended the main stairway, her feet dragged and Sark took her arm to help her along but she shrugged him off.   
  
"What the hell gives you the right to touch me?" Sydney snapped.   
  
"I was assisting."   
  
"Don't. I don't want someone like you helping me."   
  
"I see you've taken your mother's advice about letting things go." His voice was laced with sarcasm.   
  
"It's kind of hard, you know, you tried to kill my boyfriend."   
  
He gave a disgusted expression. "I'm sure I had a perfectly good reason for doing so."   
  
"Yeah, you're evil."   
  
With a frustrated sign, Sark scornfully countered, "Well, tell him I'm sorry next time you see him."   
  
At his words, Sydney started to choke up. There would be no next time and if there were, it would not be the same. Tears began rolling down her face and Sark remained motionless as she leaned into the banister, doing her best to calm herself.   
  
"You hate me that much?" Sark softly murmured with a laugh.   
  
Sydney took and few deep breaths and began climbing the stairs again. As they reached the top, she turned to him. "Thank you."   
  
"For what?"   
  
"For trying to take my mind off him and place it back on you."   
  
"I was doing nothing of the sort," he grunted.   
  
"You're right." She shook her head. "I have no idea why I thought such a thing. That is just why I hate you, Sark. You're an unfeeling cold killer, who gets off on torturing people.   
  
"And you thought I was trying to help," Sark smirked. "I was just trying to rile you up."   
  
"And you do that so well." She bitterly smiled as they reached a room.   
  
"This is where you'll be staying."   
  
Sark twisted the doorknob, revealing a small bedroom with the palest yellow walls and an old wooden canopy bed with similarly colored sheets, only a shade or two lighter. A dresser, vanity, nightstand and barred window completed the room.   
  
"Lovely view."   
  
"Yes it is." Sark walked over as if pleased with the sight. It was awhile before he spoke any further. "So what other unforgivable sins have I committed?"   
  
"You really want to know?"   
  
"Yes. Though I have not committed the same crimes as the self of your world, I would like to know what I'm up against."   
  
"You killed more people, innocent people, than most would imagine a living being could."   
  
"If that's your problem with me, then you'll hate me here too." She gave him a dirty look and he grimly went on, "Part of the life and nothing you haven't done yourself."   
  
He was right, but Sydney had no interest in admitting so. "You ruined Will's life. You kidnapped and tortured him." She peered at him, wanting to see regret.   
  
There was none. He was staring out the window, distant and detached. "The reporter, yes, I did that here as well."   
  
"And I'm sure you're behind Francie's death too."   
  
Inquisitively, he glanced over and asked, "You mean you don't even know and you're blaming me for it?"   
  
"It has to be you and Sloane."   
  
Any comment he was going to make, was interrupted by a young woman, maybe 21 or 22 years old, entering the room.   
  
"Aleksandra." Sark smiled, second time Sydney had seen him do so, and strolled over to the woman.   
  
"Sir, I was told you requested my presence." The Russian, clearly a maid given the uniform, gave Syd a brief glance and a nervous smile to Sark.   
  
"That I did. You're to care for Ms. Bristow here." Their eyes said more, something they both understood but Sydney could only speculate at.   
  
"Yes sir." She spoke with a perfectly polite, obliging attitude. So different than the banter her and Sark shared.   
  
Sydney smirked as her mind jumped to conclusions. Sark was doing the maid. The smirk was suddenly replaced with a tinge of jealously as she gave the woman a good look. It was abnormal for her to be jealous, but Aleksandra was also abnormally beautifully. Her dark hair and angelic eyes stood out against the flawless and fair complexion she possessed.   
  
"I don't need her caring for me." The words left her mouth before she realized she was speaking. "Or anyone else," she continued, trying to cover up her insane dislike of someone she had just met.   
  
Sark whispered something in Aleksandra's ear and with a bow of the head, she left.   
  
"Good. I really don't need all this pampering you and my mother seem so fond of."   
  
An amused gleam came to his eyes and he bite his lip with the tilt of his head. "That's a pity, particularly since she was about to drag all the clothing your mother ordered for you up here, but if you'd like to do it-"   
  
Syd threw him a 'back off' expression.   
  
"Maybe not." Seeing that Syd was in no mood, he sat next to her on the bed's edge and continued right were he left off before Aleksandra had interrupted. "Sydney, I believe I did all those things. I don't feign decency as most. I openly admit to lying, cheating and killing my way to where I am now and I do it by choice."   
  
"I always assumed so."   
  
"And here you are right by my side." As if to prove his point, Sark tapped her leg and leaned towards her, his face somewhat smug and taunting. "You're here knowing what I am and what your mother is yet you made the choice, just as I did, to ally yourself with Irina."   
  
She hated the truth of that statement. "I have my reasons."   
  
"We all have reasons, some good and some not."   
  
He got up and headed towards the door.   
  
"Where are you going?"   
  
"Lunch. For some reason, I haven't had any today. And then home." He lingered in the doorway as if deciding to add something before leaving. He did. "You have a few hours and then will be having dinner with your mother tonight. I suggest telling her at that time."   
  
"Wait!"   
  
Sark peeked back in.   
  
Sydney was not used to asking for things. She demanded it and it was often given or not. It made what she was about to request all the more difficult and she couldn't believe she was asking Sark, of all people. "I don't want to tell her myself, please do it with me."   
  
"I'd love to do it with you, but I believe your mother would be less than pleased."   
  
"She'll live."   
  
"Hmmm yes. I'll see what I can do. In exchange, you won't give Aleksandra a difficult time.   
  
"Fine."   
  
~   
  
Sydney was restless. Looking over the room had taken little time so she was grateful when Aleksandra, along with a few others in line, came into the room holding packages of clothing. They had insisted on putting the items away themselves but Syd insisted even more so they didn't. Sorting through it would give her something to do till the dinner.   
  
The packages consumed the king sized bed and part of the floor. It was a ridiculous amount and Sydney couldn't help but laugh at it all. Either Irina was making up for lost years of mother-daughter shopping sprees or she was overly generous. What's more, she didn't know when she would get the opportunity to wear half of these outfits. Irina's taste, if she was even the one to pick the outfits out, was classy yet expensive. At this rate, Sydney would end up like the peacock Sark was. She had began to fear they were all of the same variety but was relieved to find a few bags of her normal attire.   
  
Syd arranged each item till nothing was left but her new personal effects. New. Her old ones, Syd reflected, were most likely long gone with everything else she had. This realization was upsetting. All those irreplaceable items she gathered over the years, gone. Photos of her youth, of Will and Francie. The engagement ring from Danny she hid away and looked at in private moments of remembrance. Even Vaughn hadn't changed that. Vaughn, that old picture frame he had given her that Christmas when things seemed bad but really were easy compared to what to come. All missing, all gone and she would never see them again. That is, unless she got back to her world, what to her was the real world, instead of this fake one she was now captive in.   
  
Not wanting to think of it any more, she heaped the objects of her new beginning on the vanity. She'd deal with it later. The dinner was at eight and she needed to take a shower before then.   
  
~   
  
When she got out, she noticed the room was in the process of being disturbed. Clothing was lying out on the bed and Aleksandra was over by the vanity putting her things away.   
  
"What's this?" Syd walked over to her boldly for someone wearing nothing more than a towel.   
  
"I picked out something for this evening."   
  
"I can pick out my own clothing." Syd placed her hand over Aleksandra's, which was determined to disturb another one of her items. "And as I said before, I can put my own belongings away."   
  
"Alright, Ma'am."   
  
"I also told you to call me Sydney before," Sydney grumbled and plopped herself down into the vanity's chair.   
  
Syd stared into the mirror, looking more at Aleksandra than herself. Syd expected her to go away like she had the last two times. She didn't. A meek smile overcame the maid's face as she timidly picked up the silver brush at Syd's elbow and gave a stroke down Sydney's hair.   
  
"Stop it." She turned around, taking the brush from the woman. "I'll comb my own hair.   
  
"Sorry, Ma'am… Sydney. I'm just doing my job."   
  
"I'm surprised you didn't try to bathe me too," she jeered. Aleksandra appeared distressed so Sydney softened somewhat. "I'll take care of myself. You can go."   
  
Syd waited for the door to close and started where the maid had left off, yanking the knots out with some overpriced brush. She hated how her hair always tangled more when wet.   
  
No one since her mother had brushed her hair. After her 'death', the nanny had taught her to be self reliant, to do it herself. That had been for the better, Syd mused. It made her what she was today. Her mother evidently, lived a pampered life if her maid's were required to perform such tasks. Sydney had no intention of allowing someone to take over doing what she had for twenty-two years.   
  
As she finished, Syd returned the brush to the rest of its set. It was than she noticed the picture frame. It bothered her more than it should, its emptiness. _Won't be needing that, _ Syd fumed as she tossed it into a drawer, ruining the order Aleksandra had created.   
  
She went to the bed. What had been laid out for her was fancy but not bad. She would have worn something of its like, if she had been going out to a nice restaurant. Irina, she assumed, enjoyed dining in style. Something told Syd if she dared to go downstairs wearing a pair of jeans and a shirt, she'd feel incredibly out of place all night. Best just to take Aleksandra's 'advice'.   
  
Not long after she donned the light blue skirt and silk blouse, a knock at her door indicated it was time. Another event that hadn't taken place in twenty-two years, would be taking place tonight. She would be sitting down to a meal with her mother. Unlike most family dinners though, the conversation would be of jumping universes, Rambaldi, and prophecies. Her life would never be normal, she feared.   
  
~   
  
"Hello Sydney," Irina kissed her cheek. Her mother was the semblance of elegance all in black and her hair carefully pulled back and arranged to frame her face. She resembled nothing of the prison uniform clad Irina she had grown to know in the CIA cell. Sydney supposed this was the true Irina she never had seen.   
  
"Where's Sark?"   
  
Irina quirked an eyebrow. "Getting attached so soon?"   
  
"No," Syd chuckled, "It's just… he said he might be here."   
  
"I had thought after all these years, we might spend some time alone, but he had said you requested his presence."   
  
Syd blushed with embarrassment. It looked as if like she was afraid to spend time alone with her. "I… I just thought it would be easier this way." She wasn't lying though Irina did not know what tonight's topic would be.   
  
"He'll be here," she stated while seating herself.   
  
Sydney did the same and as if on cue, Sark entered, wearing all black; suit, tie, everything, just like Irina. He acknowledged her no more than a nod of the head while Irina received a warm smile.   
  
Syd took to opportunity of silence to take in her surroundings. _ Her mother sure knew how to live, _ she thought again. The dinning room was intimate yet just as her mother, it was the essence of elegance.   
  
The first course was just as quiet and upon it's disappearance, Irina finally broke the ice.   
  
"Did your day go well?" The question had been aimed at Sark, not her.   
  
"Reasonably."   
  
"Good. Sydney behaved?" Irina smiled at her daughter. Not waiting for an answer, she continued, "Do you believe the partnership will be successful?"   
  
"We got along splendidly," Sydney snapped, annoyed at being talked around.   
  
Irina looked at Sark as if to confirm.   
  
"As she said." Sark's smirk along with his slightly rumpled hair, gave him that mischievous school boy appearance.   
  
Feeling like their source of mockery, she yearned to slump down into her chair and hide. She was such an outsider to their amusement.   
  
"What did you spend your day doing?"   
  
Sark remained quiet as if the question wasn't addressed to him. It took a few seconds for her to comprehend it in fact wasn't.   
  
"We talked." That about summed up her day, death threats and all. "Thank you for the clothing," she added, realizing she had never acknowledged receiving them.   
  
Irina's eyes lit up. "Do you like them?"   
  
"They're wonderful." Syd smiled back, feeling awkward but happy at the simplicity of the conversation, at just talking to her mother.   
  
"I had hoped you would. If there's anything you don't like, just let me know."   
  
"No, it's all fine. You thought of everything I could possibly need."   
  
The satisfaction Irina projected, filled Sydney as well. It was then, Sydney knew she would not be telling her tonight. "Did your day go well?"   
  
~   
  
"What was that?" Sark stormed after her after Irina had excused herself for the evening.   
  
Syd understood what he meant, but said nothing.   
  
"I gave my whole evening up so you could tell her, and not a word."   
  
"I couldn't… not tonight," she said, her voice apologetic.   
  
She knew, he understood as well. She couldn't destroy something she had never dreamt would happen.   
  
"Good night, Sydney."   
  
"Night, Sark."   
  
It had been an interesting day and start to her new life. 


	4. chapter 4

**Notes:** Sorry I haven't updated here for a while. I have a few chapters done so as I get them formated for ff.net I'll update here. Big thank you to: Jade Symphony, scifichick774 and Fanatic482 for reviewing. Means alot. :) This chapter was betaed by Mel, who I can never thank enough for the help she gives me.   
  
~  
  
There really was no sound more aggravating than that of an alarm ringing in ones ears, insisting you awaken, or so Syd had thought before this moment. She was currently protesting the sound of Aleksandra, beckoning her out of bed by hiding her face in the soft comforter. Yes, after another restless night, this had just stolen that grand prize for `the most aggravating' away.   
  
"Mr. Sark requires you downstairs within a half hour."  
  
She sighed and decided to not let things get to her. Everything was grating her nerves more nowadays but turning that on everyone else was worsening things, not improving them. "What time is it?" Syd drowsily drawled.   
  
"6:30."  
  
"Didn't know he wrecked havoc during this time of day too," she laughed. For perhaps the first time since she had arrived, Syd was being playful. She had anticipated at least a polite laugh back, but the woman remained stone-faced.  
  
"I've laid out the suitable attire for you, ma'am. I'll leave you to get ready."  
  
"Alright."  
  
Syd gave a puzzled expression at her maid's change in attitude but didn't attempt to read a meaning behind it. Aleksandra was being all business today so she'd be the same. She leapt out of the big bed and strode over to see what she was presented with. A plain black outfit, which reminded her more of her old work clothing along with `the unmentionables`. Syd had a feeling what this was all about.   
  
A few minutes later, Syd escaped her confines and headed down the hall. She didn't know where she was going in this place and really didn't care. She could tell the house was huge, and she had barely seen any of it. She had the time so she thought looking around wouldn't hurt a bit.  
  
"Sydney. Ma'am."  
  
_Guess not._ Syd sighed yet again as her constant lackey came running up behind her.  
  
"So where are we headed this bright and lovely morning?" Syd mocked as Aleksandra reached her.  
  
"Mr. Sark wants to see you a few minutes and then to the office, I believe."  
  
"Just as I thought."   
  
~  
  
Aleksandra brought Syd down to the same dinning room from the night before. Sark was busy eating his own meal of eggs, toast and tea and reading a newspaper, as if he was just an ordinary business man starting out his day.   
  
"Have a good morning so far?" Sark asked, folding the newspaper neatly and putting it down.  
  
"Can't say there has been much to it, but besides having Miss Catherine Barkley in my hair every ten seconds, it's been fine."  
  
Sark looked over to Aleksandra, whose eyes had narrowed and were steadily focused on Syd, who intently stared back. The servant seemed less than pleased at being compared to the annoying nurse's aide from `A Farewell To Arms,' known for happily submitting to a life of the domestic kind. She was clearly insulted, but Syd didn't back down from either the statement or the staring match they were in.   
  
It was Aleksandra who did, fidgeting with collar of her uniform with lips trembling. "Excuse me, I need to. take care of some things," she said, rushing away.   
  
As the maid made her exit, Syd turned back to Sark, who was less than pleased himself.   
  
"You're such a child. Aleksandra informed me of what a spoiled brat you were being last night."  
  
"I'm spoiled for not wanting her fretting over me every moment?"  
  
"You're spoiled for treating someone who is only there to help you, poorly."   
  
Syd huffed. She knew he was right but she was used to treating others as she liked. People depended on her skills at the CIA, so she was also used to getting away with it. She gave into instinct, sank into one of the chairs and flashed Sark a sad puppy dogged expression. She expected him to crumble just like Kendall, her father or Vaughn would. He didn't. This time she was not needed. It was her who needed him. them. Sark didn't have some form of emotional attachment to her either. Maybe that is part of the reason she never liked him. Setting aside all else, he was just one of the few who wouldn't give into her, and her way when she demanded it. Well, the terrorist thing added to it.   
  
"Sorry," she apologized, begrudgingly.   
  
"I'm not the one to say it to, and I suggest saying it like you actually mean it."  
  
She sighed and mumbled, "You're right. I'm just making it tougher on myself and it won't help me get home any faster." As distaste washed over Sark's face, she added, "What?"  
  
"Nothing," he exhaled exasperatingly. "Just eat something and we`ll go. I have better things to do today than give you etiquette lessons."  
  
Sydney glared indignantly, topping any look Sark or Aleksandra had just given her.  
  
"What?" Sark mimicked her question of seconds earlier.   
  
Ignoring him, she asked the butler for coffee, which she was instantly served along with a meal identical to Sark's.   
  
"Where's my mother?"   
  
"Office. We'll join her later."  
  
"Do you live here?" In the last two days, he had been around her non-stop. She hoped this would not be a trend.   
  
"Full of questions again, I see. Yes and no. I have my own place but stay here more often out of convenience."  
  
A realization hit Sydney. "Where's here?" When Sark gave her a confused look she went on, "Country, city, town, whatever. Where is here?"  
  
His eyebrow rose and he sipped his tea. "St. Petersburg. I'm dumbfounded, really. A spy should have been able to determine where they were by now."  
  
"I've been occupied," Syd said.  
  
"Hasn't it occurred to you that excluding ourselves, every person we've come into contact with since yesterday has had a Russian accent?"   
  
Sydney blushed. It was true and incredibly embarrassing. Everyone, aside from her and the Brit before her, did have Russian accents. Even her mother had been speaking with one, finding no need to disguise her descent or her former loyalties. Syd rubbed her temples, astonished by her utter lack of awareness. It couldn't have been more clear if they were speaking Russian to her. She could excuse her behavior with the trauma of the past days but for people in their line of work, excuses ended in shallowly dug graves. She wondered how noticeable this was to those around her.   
  
"After we're done here--which I hope is soon so stop gaping like a fish please, and eat--I'm having someone come here to look you over. Examine you. Take a few blood tests. Make sure everything is in order."  
  
It didn't take much for Syd to see what he was really saying. "You said you trusted my story! That I was really who I claimed."   
  
"Ah, well you're sharp enough to see that at least. I do trust you, but I need insurance if anything goes wrong. `Her story sounded credible' won`t be enough with Irina, particularly when that story wouldn't be believed by most sensible individuals out there."   
  
His words of trust did not ease her. She didn't know why, but his doubt wounded her. Maybe it was cause he was the only one she had to rely on at the moment. She couldn't blame him though. Sark was doing what she would do herself. His shrewd conduct and attention to all details, were exactly what made him such an admired agent and what would make him, she believed, a good field partner.   
  
~   
  
The tests hadn't been that bad, and Sark had been grateful she submitted to them so easily. The FBI had been far more trouble after Page 47 had shown up and it was determined she was the woman in the prophecy. She was left wondering if that page had even been found in this universe or if it even existed. There was no telling the extent of differences between the two universes so she made it her objective to find out.  
  
After they were finished, she found Sark nearby, casually stretched out on a couch and flipping through some documents. Not acknowledging her presence, she silently loomed over him, causing him and the object of his focus, the documents, to fall into shadow. Now, his blue expressionless eyes finally made their way to her.   
  
"When my father." she paused considering how she would word this, "traded Will with you."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
".what was his form of persuasion?"  
  
Sark swung his legs around to look her straight on. "I believe you know that."   
  
"So my mother knows what I am?"  
  
"Well as far of the prophecy goes, of course. She knew before the page was even reveled."  
  
"And how's that?"  
  
Sark gestured for her to take a seat, which she did. "She's never said. Are you going to tell her today?"  
  
"I don't know."   
  
"You mean you don't want to." His forehead wrinkled with concern. "It will just get harder as time goes on, and it will hurt you both more. She'll find out, Sydney. She always does."   
  
"You're the one that kept my death from her to begin with," Syd laughed, astonished he'd lecture her about something he had done himself.  
  
"I agree. I have my faults. Doesn't make you replicating them any less ill-advised."  
  
"I'll tell her when I'm ready," she pouted.   
  
Sark looked at his gold Rolex, and sighed. "We're going to be late if we discuss this any further."  
  
~  
  
Syd found herself back in the now familiar sight of Irina's office, waiting to be briefed by her mother, who was on the phone. Irina was not the crabby yet loyal Kendall or Sloane, who Sydney constantly plotted against. Sydney now worked for "The Man" and that thought tickled her nausea. She was about to face up to what she had become, a traitor.   
  
At the click of the receiver being put down, Syd's eyes went to her mother, who began to speak.   
  
"There's word that one of Sloane's associates will be meeting at the hotel in Paris with agents of SD-6 about the exchange of intel involving the location of rare and important documents, perhaps, we hope, a Rambaldi manuscript. You'll meet with the individual instead." Irina pushed a photo of a balding middle aged man across her desk. "No need to pose as anything but what you are. The man sells to the highest bidder and has no loyalty to any division. That is not to say you shouldn't take precautions."   
  
Irina's eyes were on Syd and Syd alone, indicating those last words were for her. It was obvious what Irina thought of her versus the man next to her.  
  
"What about the other agents?" Syd questioned, both out of curiosity and to break the tension.   
  
"Try to leave them temporarily indisposed."  
  
"And if that fails?"  
  
"You find a way to leave when permanently indisposed," Sark answered for Irina.   
  
Irina nodded while Syd looked at him with horror and shrieked, "They're innocent. They don't know who they work for."  
  
"All you have to consider is the fact they don't work for me. That should be cause enough."   
  
Sark turned to her and with complete sincerity reasoned, "If they succeed those they work for, and whom you hate, will have the documents. Not us."   
  
Syd squeezed her eyes shut, hating his words. Both for their truth and his unfeeling in saying them. He'd never know what it was like to give oneself to something you believed in nor what it was like to be deceived while doing so.   
  
"Sydney," Irina's voice beckoned, making Syd open her eyes. "If you're questioning your loyalties-"  
  
"I'm not. It's just difficult."  
  
She also would not admit that the idea of once again helping `the enemy," this time without noble cause or in ignorance, distressed her. She knew she'd related to those agents she was supposed to stop, more than the man who was now her partner.  
  
"I know," Irina comforted, as Sloane would in one of his 'fatherly' talks and just like him the end focus was on the mission. "You'll leave tomorrow."  
  
"So soon?"  
  
"I don't believe the contact or the agents will wait 'til you're ready to arrive, so yes. You'll be back in two days, and this will be a good test on how well you and Sark will be as partners."   
  
Sark and Irina stood up. Sydney followed their example comprehending they were through. Irina grabbed her by the shoulder on the way out though and stared at her with cold, hard eyes.  
  
"Never again question my orders. You being my daughter doesn't give you the right. In fact, less so." When Sydney said nothing, Irina continued, "Understand?"   
  
"Yes." She understood but a stubborn part of her resisted. She'd never fully except Irina's bidding. She was only doing this cause she had to.   
  
"Good, I know you'll make me proud."  
  
Yet there was a part of Sydney that wanted that too.  
  
**Thanks for reading. I hoped you liked it. If so a review would always be nice, lol. Sometimes I tend to think people on ff.net don't like my writing I admit. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes:** I'm glad you three ( scifichick774, annie, and leonsalanna) like my writing. I hadn't planned on posting the next chapter here this fast but figured why not. Thanks to those who betaed this chapter, RED, Susan and Mel and for all the help Mel gave me with getting this chapter together.   
  
~   
  
_"Sydney's dead."   
  
Silently, he stumbled out of the office and down to the hall to the bathroom, where he could be alone. Even washing his face with the cool water, he could feel the hot tears searing his cheeks. He had always feared this moment. Now there was no need to go on. _   
  
~   
  
The Paris hotel lobby was bustling with activity in spite of its reputation for privacy in the most opulent conditions and it being off season. Sark and Syd blended well with the diverse crowd, composed of tourist and businessmen, by playing the role of business associates themselves. Each was currently scanning opposite sides of the spacious hall in hopes of sighting either Sloane's contact, Mr. Laufer, or the SD-6 agents.   
  
"I don't recognize anyone here," Syd whispered inconspicuously into her necklace which doubled as a com. Searching the mob, she saw nothing that was familiar unless Sark's blond locks, which were making their way through the crowd from some distance away, could be counted.   
  
"Keep looking. It will make our deal with Mr. Laufer go easier if they're out of the way."   
  
"You know, even though you may not believe this, most other agents are just as good as us." When he didn't respond, she went on "I doubt they'll be jumping up and down, wearing signs saying who they are." She paused again for Sark's answer but was met only with silence. "Sark?"   
  
Looking over, she still saw the top of Sark's head above the crowd but this time, it was stationary. She was about to check if something had gone wrong when he answered at last.   
  
"Sydney…" Sark had started making his way over to her. "I need you to stay calm, professional."   
  
Her urge to snap back with a nasty reply was quieted by the hint of concern she detected in his otherwise composed voice. "Why?"   
  
He reached her at that moment, visibly pale yet collected, and gazing at something over her shoulder. "I see them. Behind you, to your right."   
  
Her heart stopped when she peered over and they came into view.   
  
"Oh god, we can't do this." She tugged on Sark's arm, wanting for them both to leave this instant.   
  
"Don't! You're making a spectacle," he roughly hissed, all previous concern absent. "There's a reason you ran to your mother and not them. We can't mess this up. Get yourself together and those extreme measures you so dread, won't have to be taken."   
  
So much easier for him to say, than for her to do. She took a deep shaky breath and then another to focus.   
  
_ They are no longer people. I do not love them, _ she recited to herself as they tracked the individuals through the hotel. _ They are targets. My only objective is to hinder their mission and fulfill my own. Nothing else matters. _   
  
Sydney winced at her own thoughts. No matter how many times she repeated them, it would never be true, but she had to find a way to do this. As the men entered a more private area of the hotel, Syd knew her time to prepare was up.   
  
"Let me take care of him." _ So I know he isn't too hurt, _ she reasoned.   
  
"You sure?" Sark's tired blue eyes were filled with apprehension once again.   
  
She nodded.   
  
When the time was right, Sark jumped out, pushing Dixon back with a fist to his jaw, followed by a sweeping kick that knocked him off his feet. The room was filled was Dixon's moans till they were ceased by the substance Sark strayed in the man's face, making him pass out.   
  
Syd had hesitated in taking on her opponent, allowing him to swirl around, and wide-eyed, take the sight of her in. It had only been a few seconds, just as Sark's fight with Dixon had been, but they were enough to let her identity be known.   
  
"Sydney!"   
  
She sprayed her father's shocked face causing him to instantly pass out to the floor, like Dixon just had moments earlier, and flinched as she heard his head smack against a wooden table that was nearby. Something told her Dixon got the better end of the deal.   
  
Wanting to cry, Sydney's body numbed instead as she stared down at her father's seemingly lifeless figure. She glanced up at Sark, who was gazing at her with sympathetic eyes as he dragged her former partner's body across the room, where it could be tied up and better concealed. Mumbling for her to "keep watch," he repeated the same with Jack. She knew it was really him allowing her to recover what has just taken place.   
  
It had been too soon. Seeing Dixon she could have handled, but not her father. Not the person she had come to love after 20 years of a strained relationship, only to discover his betrayal by teaming up with the man that had destroyed her life. Even the knowledge of this taking place in a parallel universe, was painful.   
  
"We have to go find Laufer. He's expecting two people. It's best he sees two, at least until he hears our offer."   
  
Syd adjusted her wire frame glasses and smoothed back her sleek, golden brown hair, to amplify the business like persona she was suppose to be presenting and to let Sark know she was ready for action.   
  
Sark didn't have to bother. Even after the scuffle, his appearance was impeccable as always but he paused a few seconds, running his hand through his hair, before asking her, "Ready?"   
  
~   
  
Fifteen minutes later Laufer, clad in a white suit, strolled into the lobby. Syd noted he had come from the upstairs, and was headed to the hotel's restaurant, where the lunch crowd was slowly dwindling. Two bulky bodyguards in black were positioned on each side of the man. It was a sight that Syd had seen endless times to the point of being ridiculous but at least these men were smart enough to know they were targets or perhaps it was to show off their wealth and importance. Men willing to sell to anyone flashing the cash, tended not to be the smartest.   
  
Sark and Syd made their way over to Laufer's table and Sark promptly introduced himself before the men could react. "Mr. Laufer. I'm Mr. Sark and this-"   
  
"Whatcha want?" The man barked in a brash New Jersey accent that extremely contrasted with Sark's British one. "I've got a meeting planned in a few minutes and no time for you."   
  
"I work for an individual you may have heard of, The Man."   
  
Laufer, who seemed in such a rush seconds earlier, seemingly ignored Sark's comment to give his attention elsewhere. His eyes began wandering and pausing over each part of Syd's body, lingering longer in certain places, the ones which all males tend to do and giving Syd caddish smile which made her stomach turn. Sark even scowled at his behavior but Syd was sure it was because of his being ignored or his impatience. Each minute that ticked by was one where Dixon and Jack could be found and cause trouble.   
  
"Yeah, I've heard of him," Laufer spoke at last, though his occupation had yet to change. "What does he want from me?"   
  
The man had a cocky confidence that he was so needed, he could get away with behaving any which way he wanted.   
  
"We're here to make you an offer, one which I think you will find more than agreeable, for the information you were previously planning to sell to others today."   
  
Laufer's eyes were now filled with another form of greed as he finally gave up inspecting Syd's body and looked over to the one offering the goods.   
  
"Such information… Well I can get a lot for it and don't wish to waste my time on little boys, such as yourself, who can't possibility pay up or can you?."   
  
"I assure you he can," Syd jumped hoping to settle this before things got ugly. "Our-,"   
  
"Having your girlfriend picking your fights… you'll never make it past errand boy."   
  
Girlfriend? Of course a man like this wouldn't see her capable of holding a position in the spy world herself. She had to be some clingy girlfriend following her lower level lackey boyfriend on his job. Syd was now sure Laufer's look over had to do with intimidating and testing 'the boyfriend' as much as it did with him being an ass.   
  
Lips pursed and his eyes on fire with rage, Sark seemed less than pleased with the comment as well. Syd was not far behind that level of anger herself. If Sark decided to pounce the sexist jerk now, Syd would gladly join him, yet he didn't. His furry settled down though, far faster than hers could, and in a reasonably calm yet slightly insulted voice, Sark replied "As she said. You'll get the money. Just as soon as you allow me to preview the documents to show if their worth as what you claim, I'll make the call for the money to be placed in your account.   
  
"They're in my room."   
  
"If you want the money, I'd advise you to send one of you bodyguards to fetch them."   
  
"I only know the combination and it's going to stay that way, so if you want them, you come up with me and fetch them," Laufer snapped.   
  
Syd grabbed Sark's arm and smiled at him. Their eyes expressed all that needed to be said. Give the man his way but keep an eye out for shifty behavior. This could be a trap but they had to take the risk. Once Jack and Dixon resurfaced, it was a whole new game.   
  
~   
  
After Sark handed over both of the guns he had on him, and was subjected to a pat down as well, they settled into the suite and Laufer began pouring himself and Sark a drink. While doing so he called over to her, While doing so he called over to her, "Why don't you relax some, sweetheart, while we settle our business."   
  
_Relax? Yeah right,_ Syd thought. The man was basically asking her to 'strip' down some for a better view of what he had to offer. His sleazy face hadn't even turned away since he had made that statement. It was like he'd miss the big event, one Syd saw in her advantage to give him to get this meeting over and done with.   
  
Giving him her best sweet disarming smile, she softly happily replied, "Oh thank goodness. My boyfriend insists I wear their stupid business outfits when he takes me on this things. I personally can't stand them. They're so uncomfortable."   
  
One man laughed and sipped his drink while the other shot daggers at her for the words.   
  
Glasses off, she held them by the tip in her teeth while she worked on taking her hair down as flirtatiously as she could with this slime in front of her. Jacket next, and she'd go no further for this man's entertainment. Making sure the gun she had carefully hidden was out of view, she slipped it off her shoulders, insinuating the 'assets' he'd like best and sat down, crossing her legs, allowing her rising shirt to give more of the preview the man was looking for.   
  
"Can we get on with this?" Sark griped.   
  
Laufer went over to a wall with a mini yet superior quality safe and turned the dial to begin opening it. "Yeah, why don't we."   
  
As the lock clicked open, Sydney felt that tightening she felt in her stomach each time she anticipated the moment of seeing what was in a safe. Just papers… but as Laufer took them out, he treated them like they were made out of gold instead of the worthless material they were.   
  
Handing the first to Sark, Laufer looked over the next page himself, slipping in behind the rest in the small pile behind glancing at the next and saying, "Satisfied?"   
  
"Yes. I'll call to make the deal. How much are you asking for this?"   
  
"Ten million."   
  
"Quite a price since it was only intel on how to perhaps find the manuscript, and not the manuscript itself."   
  
Sark took out his cell and went off in a corner to talk. In the mean time, Laufer came over to see more of Sydney.   
  
"Are we boring you, Hon?" The man cooed.   
  
"No, I like watching you guys do this important stuff. It's all so exciting!"   
  
"Like power, huh?"   
  
"Maybe," Syd giggled, making herself sick.   
  
Placing the pages down on the table next to her, he leaned in and whispered, "Well, if you do, I think a man like myself has more to offer than a guy like him."   
  
"I'm sure your wife would love that," Sark said from behind him, pocketing the cell phone.   
  
Laufer just winked at her of all things. She bet he wouldn't like that if he knew she wanted to kick him in the balls of all things.   
  
"It's done," Sark continued, seeing he was being pushed to the side once more.   
  
"Yeah. I'll have one of my men make sure the eleven million was added."   
  
"You said ten."   
  
"Did I? Well I change my mind." Laufer turned to face a pissed off Sark.   
  
Syd itched to react, but wouldn't unless needed.   
  
"I'd hope you'd honor the original deal. It's an insult to my employer for you not to."   
  
"Well, your employer is not here, is he?" Laufer signaled for the bodyguards to come over. "And he is as powerful, as people allege, he'd have the extra million."   
  
The group went still as a sudden knock on the door was heard. Syd's mind panicked on what to do. This situation had gone from bad to worse.   
  
"See who that is," Laufer shouted on one of his men. "Maybe it's Sloane's people who can offer me what this page is worth."   
  
Before the bodyguards could take a second step, Syd felt herself pull the trigger on her gun she had retrieved, and red blood spattered across the room. She felt Laufer jump on top of her, pushing her to her back, to stop her from acting further. She felt suffocated by his mass, as he tried to twist her arm until she let go of the gun, and she did her best to make sure he didn't succeed in fulfilling his goal. The sounds of a scuffle nearby indicated what happened to Sark. The crash of men trying to break down the door let her know how little time there was. Hearing a second gunshot ring out she wondered Sark's fate. Was she alone to die a horrid, death in this world, which was not her own? Would she never see the ones she loved again? Neither was something she'd settle for.   
  
She kicked Laufer off her with all her might, feeling pain shoot through her as something in her leg snapped, sending him flying backwards to the floor and allowing her to get better aim with her gun. The bloom of blood on his white suit told her she had hit him below the shoulder. Before she could get off another shot, Sark grabbed her. Her fingers snatched onto the pages Laufer had foolishly left next to her, as she attempted to stand on her leg for the first time since the kick. [i]Broken.[/i] She wasn't getting out of her without Sark's help.   
  
"We have to get out of her now!" Looking over the room for a way out, Sark went on, "Window's not an option."   
  
The only other option, the door, finally gave in and two men tumbled in, her father and Dixon. Running as fast as he could while dragging a limping Sydney, Sark stepped over the men before they could get up, and went down the hall to the elevator. Before the doors closed, the reverberation of a fourth and final shot blast was heard and Syd did her best not to cry and beg to go back.   
  
~   
  
** Thanks for reading.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes:** Thanks you so much for your kind feedback guys(annie, leonsalanna,indiepunk, scifichick774 and celticangel) I'm unsure when the next chapter will be up since I've started writing a non Alias fic. I'll try to make it within the next 2 weeks though.   
  
**Annie-** My story always gets updated at SD-1.com before anywhere else so if you are ever looking for the most up to date version on my fics that is the place to check. It has my NC-17 stuff that I can't put here as well and also a ton of great fics in the Sark forum that you can't find on ff.net.   
  
~   
  
Deciding what to do next wasn't difficult. Sark and Syd couldn't stay within the hotel, simple as that. It was how they'd get out of the hotel that was the problem. Sark argued that the risk of a side exit was worth it compared to the risk of being noticed in the lobby. She of course felt the opposite. It was more than likely the gunshots had been heard and two people trying to get out from an alternative exit would gather far more attention, so exiting through the front was the better choice. With the crowd, she was sure they would find they could blend in, relying on the distraction to escape.   
  
Sark conceded and it turned out that Sydney was correct. When they found themselves in the still crowded lobby, it was already at the point of semi-controlled chaos and confusion. Word of a disturbance upstairs was indeed already circulating among the patrons and hotel staff, who were being herded off to a corner by a frustrated police attempting to keep some form of order.  
  
Sydney did her best to disguise her limp by gripping tightly onto Sark's arm, as if she were frightened by these events, and grinding her teeth to ease the pain. She was incredibly embarrassed by the tears streaming down her face, resulting from the unbearable throbbing of her leg. Each step hurt worse than the one before. She put as much weight as possible onto Sark, who was supporting her further in the guise of being a man comforting his lover. All and all this was as strange an experience for Syd as having had to play nice upstairs for the sake of making things go smoother. That was something that had totally failed but she hoped this time it went better.   
  
It did. They took the opportunity of the paramedics rushing in to slip away into the parking lot unnoticed.   
  
"Bloody hell," Sark muttered beneath his breath, as she dug her fingers deeper into his arm on a particularly painful step.  
  
"I'm sorry. The ground's uneven."   
  
"It's fine. Just keep holding on and don't worry about me. The less pressure placed on that leg, the better."  
  
After helping her into the car, he stared down at her leg as if in deliberation.   
  
"Not much can be done for that here," he sighed, running his hand through his messy hair. And even if something could be done, he knew it'd be a bad idea with everything going on.  
  
Sark's appearance was no longer the impeccable one she was so used to. Had she been wrong about the condition of the lobby, he would have stood out for sure and they'd be paying severely for the mistake. He looked tired and his suit was ripped on one sleeve and splattered with blood. Sydney knew this was yet another side of Sark she had never seen, nor the opportunity to see. The one after a hard mission; the one that was weary. It was so much less pleasant and so much more shocking than when she discovered him smiling and laughing days previously.   
  
"Where are going?" Syd asked as Sark slipped into his seat.  
  
"A flat not far from here, a twenty minute drive at most."   
  
Pulling out of the parking lot, Sark flipped his cell phone open and pressed the instant dial on the phone.   
  
"We've got the page, though the mission didn't go as well as planned."   
  
Listening to the reply, he rummaged through a bag he had gotten from the back seat and handed her a bottle of pills.   
  
_ Painkillers. Well, it's better than nothing, _ she supposed.   
  
"Sydney's hurt… her leg; I think it might be broken." He paused again allowing the other individual, Sydney presumed her mother, to speak. "I realize that. We're off to the apartment to recoup and than we'll head ba-… Another day at least… Fine."  
  
Sark clicked the off button, shoved the phone back into his pocket and focused on the road. In the meanwhile, Syd leaned her head into the window, cherishing the few minutes of silence ahead of her.   
  
~  
  
The car stopped a short time later in a nice, quiet, wooded area in the outskirts of Paris. It would give one privacy if needed but was also close enough to the city to not be a hassle to have access to its conveniences. It was definitely an upper class neighborhood, and one of the apartments in the complex probably cost a sizable amount each month, but not enough so to draw attention to the inhabitant's wealth. Affluent, efficient and private, yet close to the action; all together something told Syd that she was about to enter one of Sark's residences.  
  
"Now let's see to this leg." After opening her car door, Sark dropped down onto one knee to inspect the wounded leg. "You mind?" he asked, indicating he wished to rip the fabric to get a better look.   
  
She knew what the end result would be, that it was in fact broken, but she'd allow him to do it all the same. "Not at all."   
  
Tearing it with relative ease, Sark than carefully touched her badly busied leg, his fingers examining each spot, some tender, from the knee down. With a sigh, he got up and swept his hand across his pants to remove any gravel that may still be there.   
  
"It's definitely broken… in two spots, I believe. We'll take care of it inside." Without another word, he disappeared up some stairs and after a few moments, through a door he had opened. Syd was becoming anxious he had actually expected her to follow him on her own, before he finally returned. "Place your arms around my neck," Sark demanded as he reached out to lift her.  
  
Sydney rolled her eyes as she realized he was planning to carry her. "I'll walk."  
  
Sark's eyebrow quirked in amazement… or perhaps it was annoyance. "You'll walk," Sark stated condescendingly, "and it will be broken in three spots instead of the two."   
  
"I walked on it before; I don't see much the difference." She didn't know why he was putting up such a fuss, though if asked, she wouldn't know why she was putting up a fuss either.   
  
"I couldn't have carried you before without making a scene and then a broken leg would have been the least of our problems."   
  
"Tad grumpy, aren't you Sark?"   
  
""I'm trying to make things easier for _both_ of us and you're being difficult but if you insist on walking, go ahead."   
  
"You know that's not what I meant. I can't exactly going anywhere without your help." Under her breath she muttered, "But I don't need to be carried like a child by you either."   
  
Sark paused, crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes on her. "What's this all really about?"  
  
Syd heart stopped as she wondered what Sark was reading into her behavior. "Nothing," she answered and was astounded by how guilty she sounded. "Now help me up."  
  
"No, it's not nothing and I think before I help you do anything, I'll need to know what it is."   
  
Syd threw him a nasty glare. "Blackmail, Sark? I shouldn't have expected anything less from the likes of you but I'll make myself clear. I don't like being questioned… or blackmailed, particularly by someone such as you. Besides, since you're sure you there is something, you must have an idea." She sure as hell didn't.   
  
"Oh, I have an idea and you've just confirmed it."  
  
"Confirmed what?"   
  
"Now come here," Sark huffed, ignoring her question as he gathered her up causing her to gasp at the audacity of it all. _ How dare he, _ her mind screamed, as he strode up the flight of stairs holding her, making her choose between throwing her arms around his neck for balance or falling. She choose the prior… grudgingly so.   
  
Deep down she want to rebel, to kick and thrash about and demand her release. But any part of her seeking to do so fell silent due to two simple facts. First, she was a spy; she prided herself in that fact and drawing attention to herself at this time would be detrimental to their safety (and her ego). Second and more importantly, she didn't want to look like the child she had earlier complained about being treated as. It was something else her pride would not allow. Not in front of this man.   
  
After entering the spacious apartment, Sark plopped Syd down on the couch. He wasn't actually gentle in doing so but not overly inconsiderate either. Looking around, Syd saw the place was pretty bare. Some furniture, a television, and books sprawled across the tableside pretty much summed up everything in sight. The apartment looked unlived in, but since its owner wasn't likely to be around much, that was reasonable. Sark opened the curtains, allowing some more light to come in. She could tell the place was clean so it hadn't been abandoned long enough for extensive dust to collect or perhaps Sark even had someone come clean the place from time to time so it was decent whenever he did arrive. She could see Sark being meticulous about something like that.  
  
Syd had been too lost in thought to notice that Sark, with his arms crossed, was eyeing her, displeasure on his face. Aware he had her attention at last, he informed her, "I'm going out to see if I can make contact with someone I know, who can help mend your leg ."  
  
"Do we really have time before we head back?"   
  
"We'll be here for a few days at least and it is preferable your leg be attended to now rather than later."  
  
Syd was unable to hide her shock. Stuck in an apartment for _ days _ with Sark of all people. "But on the phone you said-"  
  
"I did. I assumed that would be what your mother wanted, the information above all else. I was wrong."  
  
"What happens if they come looking for us?" They being Laufer's men and her father and Dixon as well. Though she was sure she wanted nothing to do with the former, the idea of her father gave her a secret spark of hope, no matter how dangerous it would be for her to go with someone who was technically one of Sloane's men.   
  
"That's why we're staying here," Sark responded to her question. "They'll be looking for us and it's safer in seclusion than dragging you, broken leg and all, through a public airport. Staying here will allow time for other arrangements to be made."   
  
"How long?"  
  
"Few days... till they believe us far away and the risk of leaving is minimum. Then we'll be picked up and we'll head back.   
  
"I thought she'd want the papers, straight away," Syd softly murmured, still unable to believe it was true.   
  
"So did I. I've found she values you neck over having the advantage having it quickly would gain us. If it were me with the broken leg, I suppose it'd be a whole different story."  
  
"Then why the loyalty?"   
  
Sark's eyes flashed away, as if in discomfort but their cold blue expression was one of deep thought. Was he considering the question on why indeed he devoted himself to that woman or were these thoughts on some particular event worthy of his loyalty? She did not know but in this moment she knew she craved to.   
  
Though, as usual Sark would not give her, her way and told her nothing. The conversation was dropped just as quickly as the one earlier had been and Sark silently turned to the kitchen, with an expression of contemplation still present.   
  
It was not long before he entered the room again, bottle of water in his hand, which he casually handed to her. She wanted to laugh at the gesture of thoughtfulness, but the look of outright seriousness on his face, stopped her from doing so.   
  
"I'll be back," was all he said, as he exited the apartment, leaving Syd with a tense and almost gloomy feeling.   
  
Moodily, she cuddled into the soft sofa for several minutes, before the silence and thoughts overwhelmed her and grabbed for the tv remote in the need of distraction. Lazily, she flipped through the channels indifferently, not caring much about what she was seeing but just happy it had nothing to do with any problems she might be facing. A cooking show, some incredibly unfunny French sitcom, they were all welcome in comparison to reality. That was why her heart was filled with horror as she passed a channel, reporting news on the events that had taken place earlier.   
  
Jerking up, pain shot through her leg, which she foolish had put pressure on, as she had leaned forward to get a better focus on the sight before her. The television showed a crowd of reporters. The focus was on a young, brunette female who was clearly covering news for the channel. A crowd of onlookers were gaping at something out of the camera's view. The caption read, "One dead and two injured in assumed robbery."   
  
The lady went on to sternly report, "Sources still do not know what lead to the gruesome events that took place in this exclusive hotel, only today, but there is indication that robbery may have been involved. And in a strange twist of events, one of the two injured men, we earlier showed you being taken from the hotel…" (They went on to replay the footage of two men being carried out by stretchers)… "has disappeared."   
  
Syd gasped as she clearly recognized one of the men being carried out to be her father, his gray hair more than visible as the paramedics went by.   
  
Tears ran down Syd's face as the reporter finished up, "The identities of the assailants are still unknown."   
  
She should have felt better that her father was not one of the dead and there was a chance he was the individual who had gotten away, but she didn't. Her pessimistic mind cried, _ 'The CIA will get their hands on him and I'll never see him again.' _ She tried to convince herself it did not matter. This was not the father of her world and once she went back, the Jack Bristow she knew would be waiting, but it pained her to know her father was suffering in any place.  
  
_'Gotten Away… it could be him,' _ her mind reasoned. There was no word of Dixon at the scene and he would never just abandon him. And if Dixon called Sloane to alert him of what happened, Sloane would insist something been done to recover such a valuable agent. She gave a bitter, dark laugh at the taking sick comfort in the knowledge she gained in the fact her father's betrayal of her memory by working with such a man, was also his protection. Jack was needed unlike less valuable agents like Marshall and Mckennas Cole. Sloane was sure to extract him.   
  
Muting the television, she laid back and rested her stinging eyes. Her life had never been easy but this was ridiculous. She could barely stand it. It was nearly insane. The idea she was dragged off to some parallel dimension and now had the worries of both worlds upon her. As if things hadn't been bad enough before.   
  
There was nothing she could do at the moment, and thinking about it was making her even more restless, so she grabbed one of the books on the table next to her.   
  
_"Far better than tv," _ she thought to herself, opening the copy of _ Great Expectations,_ and blinking away the tears so she could read the words.  
  



End file.
